


Possessed

by raynewton



Category: Star Trek: Mirror Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 17:32:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12194490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynewton/pseuds/raynewton
Summary: Spock takes Kirk as a slave





	Possessed

**Author's Note:**

> This first appeared in Naked Times 4/5, and is a sequel to Possession by Toni Cardinal-Price, which appeared in Naked Times 2
> 
> In Toni's story, After the events in Mirror Mirror, Mirror Kirk finds it impossible to trust anyone, even Spock. Spock is loyal, but when Kirk acts against him, Spock uses the Tantalus Field against his Captain.
> 
> In this creative response to Possession, Kirk has survived; and Spock makes his move, taking Kirk off the Enterprise, apparently on leave, and enslaving him.

  
Possessed

by Ray Newton

  
The captain's room... his room now, he realized. Why hadn't Kirk believed him? He had never wanted command... but the Other had won in the end, and Jim was...

And not even for any grand, heroic reason. Not to save the Halkans, change the Empire... only a sacrifice to outraged Vulcan pride... and bitter disappointment. It should have been... so different....

The crew... the crew must he told of the change in command. Sulu... Would he make his bid now? Spock's own operatives were loyal, of course - they were Vulcans. They would not be displeased that one of their race now commanded the I.S.S. Enterprise.

His mind already busy with the details of assuming command, Spock turned towards the door - only to check in astonishment as he rounded the partition and saw the huddled figure slumped in the doorway. For a moment, he simply stared, wondering why - this time of all times - the Tantalus Field had failed. Then Kirk stirred, muttered something inaudible, and subsided again, and Spock realized the captain must have collapsed in a drunken stupor seconds before he had pressed the button - in that anguished moment of determination, when he had closed his eyes not to see his handiwork, the captain must have been out of the range of the field.

Instinctively, the Vulcan knelt and made a careful examination. Yes - dead drunk, and likely to remain so for some hours. His lips twisted bitterly; it had taken him so long to reach the knowledge that something must be done to halt Kirk's career - and by an impossible chance, the man's fiendish luck had saved him again.

For the last time. Nervous fingers reached for the slim knife at his belt. He should end it now... he must.... The knife-edge was poised at the vulnerable throat, and still Spock hesitated. Then Kirk stirred again; his eyes flickered open, blank, unseeing.

"...need you, Spock. Always... need you... " The eyes closed again as Kirk relapsed into his drunken sleep.

Destroy the animal as he sleeps! Spock's mind urged. Kirk was a vicious, drunken sadist, beyond any hope of redemption. He had killed, plundered... raped... all his life.

The dark eyes turned cold with determination; leaning closer, Spock reached for the helpless human...

  
***

 

Kirk awoke in the throes of the worst hangover he had ever experienced. His head pounded miserably, his throat was as raw and dry as the sands of Vulcan, and he felt wretchedly sick. He rolled over and tried to sit up, meaning to go to the bathroom, but something held him in place; he blinked, puzzled, bleary-eyed, trying to work out what was wrong. He was lying on his own bed, in his own quarters. His boots and shirt had been removed... Spock must have...

Spock!

Fear ripped through him as he remembered what he had done to the Vulcan in his drunken rage, but his stubborn arrogance beat dorm the fear. "You're mine, and you know it," he muttered. Nevertheless, he should find Spock, explain... He'd always been able to 'make things right'.

He tried again to move, and again found that the irritating restrictions would only let him move a little. Investigating, he found that a heavy chain encircled his waist and fastened him securely to the bed. Sullen anger stirred. Who had dared...? He struggled, trying to break the chain, but the only result of his violent movement was a wavy of bitter nausea which left him vomiting helplessly onto the floor. Shaken by the painful retching, he lay back, trembling uncontrollably; but the opening of the door caused him to turn, a cry of anger on his lips.

"You are awake at last. Excellent." The tall figure rounded the room divider, and Kirk stared with growing fury; Spock had discarded the science blue tunic and now wore the glittering gold of a captain.

"You bastard! What the hell do you think you're doing? I'm the captain here!"

"You are dead." There was subtle amusement in the cool voice. "I assumed command precisely eighteen and a half hours ago, and have just received confirmation from Starfleet Central. You are dead - and will remain so."

"We'll see about that! How long do you think you can keep me a prisoner on my own ship?"

"As long as is necessary. But you will not be here long; we reach Vulcan in eight days."

"Then what?" Kirk sneered. "Take me down and charge me with rape? That wouldn't go well with your precious Vulcan pride!"

"You will learn your fate in due course," Spock replied without a flicker of emotion. "In the meantime, you will remain chained to this bed unless I am here with you. I shall be on my guard for an attack, and any such attempt will be severely punished." The Vulcan came closer and released   
the chain. "As your first task, I suggest you clean up this disgusting mess."

"I'll be damned if I do!" Kirk snapped. "Clean it up yourself if it bothers you so much."

"As you wish." Spock shrugged, moving to sit at the desk. "You will not be fed until you have done so, however."

"Bastard!" Kirk snarled.

 

***

 

Neither threats nor persuasion could soften the Vulcan's attitude, Kirk found. He remained chained to the bed save when Spock worked at his desk - where he slept, the human had no idea. A few hours of hunger and thirst were enough to convince the sullen captain to clean up the cabin as he had been ordered. As soon as he had done so, Spock refastened his chain and left, to return a few minutes later carrying a tray.

"What's this garbage?" Kirk poked disdainfully at the plate handed to him. "Get me some decent food!"

"It is my normal diet," Spock informed him quietly. "I have no intention of arousing suspicion by changing my habits. For as long as I choose to keep you here, what you eat, when you eat - indeed, if you eat - is at my discretion."

"You'll pay for this!" Kirk threatened. "You can't keep me here forever, and the minute you try to move me from this... Mister, you'll wander what hit you."

"You will discover, James Kirk, that I can do exactly as I choose - on my own ship." Unruffled, Spock removed the dishes.

  
***

 

The next few days passed in a haze of boredom for Kirk, his only diversion his gloating anticipation of the revenge he would inflict an his treacherous first officer. As he brooded over his humiliation, he pushed to the back of his mind the savagery which had triggered it - the lying half-breed had wanted his command, and encouraged by that other Kirk, had stolen it at the first opportunity.

Spock continued to came and go in the cabin, using it merely as a workroom. While he labored at the desk, Kirk was released to stretch his legs by prowling around the room. But on each occasion, before he left, Spock refastened and checked the chain which held his captive. Kirk was fed at regular intervals, and given water when he requested it; demands for brandy were totally ignored. Spock paid no attention to his outbursts of fury, and Kirk quickly learned that only a politely phrased request would bring him what he required.

One evening, believing the Vulcan to be totally absorbed in the tape he was studying, Kirk sidled up behind him, hoping that an initial blow would stun Spock sufficiently to allow him to gain a stranglehold. His tormentor spun around at the last possible moment, and Kirk was held motionless in a grip of steely arms.

"I warned you," the implacable voice said coldly as he was lifted and dumped unceremoniously on the bed. He tried to wriggle away, but a vicious slap set his head ringing. Another blow... and another... and another. Stunned, conscious of nothing save pain, Kirk cowered away, but the blows fell mercilessly until tears of pain and humiliation spilled from his eyes.

"You will soon learn how to behave," the hated voice said. "Tomorrow we reach Vulcan."

Vulcan! But if Spock wanted to get him off the ship there might be a chance.... Someone would help him.... The thought faded as hard finger, pressed into his neck, and consciousness faded.

***

The next thing Kirk knew he was being roughly shaken awake.

"Come, human! Would you keep the master waiting?"

"What... what happened?" Raising his head, he stared around, his eyes widening in astonishment. He was no longer in his cabin; he lay on a low, narrow bed in a small, stone-walled room. A man - a Vulcan - leaned over him, and he saw that a second man stood watching impassively from the door.

"How the hell did Spock get me off the ship? I'll kill that damned halfbreed..." Kirk sprang to his feet, but the impetuous rush for the door was halted by the Vulcan, who delivered a resounding blow to his already bruised cheek.

"Speak with respect for your betters! But the master will teach you. Came - he awaits you - "

The second Vulcan moved forward purposefully, and Kirk suddenly understood that if he did not go willingly, he would be dragged. With a muttered curse, he allowed himself to be led from the room.

He was taken along a stony passage to a larger room, its only furnishings a high-backed leather chair and a curious X-shaped frame which stood higher than his head beside a glowing brazier. Spock, in casual Vulcan dress, was seated in the chair. As the three men entered, he waved a hand in the direction of the frame. Kirk's escorts moved swiftly, and within seconds he had been spreadeagled and fastened securely. The two Vulcans bowed respectfully as Spock came forward to inspect the prisoner, then retired to stand against the far wall, well out of earshot.

"Now what?" Kirk demanded. "Some sort of ceremonial death? Or torture, perhaps?" He tried to speak with his usual arrogance, but could not keep a faint tremor from his voice as he saw the slim dagger in the Vulcan's hand.

Spock made no reply. Carefully, he cut away Kirk's clothing, including his boots, then checked and tightened the straps that held him in place. Satisfied, he stepped back and surveyed the nervous human. "You are extremely possessive, James Kirk," he noted reflectively. My ship... my crew... you even thought to own me. Now you will learn what it is to he truly a possession."

"What do you mean?" Kirk gave a gasp of pain as powerful fingers clamped onto his jaw; Spock leaned closer, and spoke in a rapid undertone.

"For the crime of male rape, there is one punishment on Vulcan; the criminal is neutered, and becomes his victim's property - a slave." Spock laughed harshly as Kirk's eyes widened. "In your case, I shall dispense with the first part of the punishment." Turning to the brazier, he withdrew a metal rod, and held the white-hot tip before Kirk's face. "A branding iron, my slave. You will note that it forms my personal insignia. Now... where shall I place the brand? Your cheek?" The metal moved closer, then away. "No, I think not; a pity to mar your face. Your shoulder perhaps? Ah, I have it."

Kirk screamed in sudden agony as the fiery metal was pressed onto the soft flesh of his thigh, and his body convulsed against the straps. Nausea churned in his stomach as he smelled his own scorched flesh, but it was several seconds before the iron was removed and Spock touched his leg to examine the handiwork.

"Excellent; it will heal cleanly. A blurred brand diminishes the value of a slave." He turned to one of the guards. "Release him."

The two Vulcans came forward and unfastened Kirk's hands, then forced him to his knees before Spock.

"You recognize this?" the Vulcan asked.

Sick and dizzy, Kirk lifted clouded eyes, studying the object held out to him. "No."

"Yes, my slave. You will he collared." The cool metal was passed around his throat and fastened with a distinctive snap. He was pulled to his feet, and a coarse, sleeveless tunic fastened around his shivering body.

The Vulcan spoke again. "Take him to Maccra. He has his orders. And make certain that all know - this slave is not to be touched without my express orders - "

"We obey, Master," the two Vulcans said in unison.

Kirk stumbled after his escort, aware of nothing save the pain in his thigh; even the humiliation to which he had been subjected seemed remote, unreal, though the tightly-fitting collar around his neck was acutely uncomfortable. After a few minutes, he was pushed through a door and heard it slam shut behind him; he was still trembling as he gazed with dull surprise at the room in which he now found himself - a comfortably, though simply furnished, bedroom.  
  
Kirk looked longingly at the low bed against the far wall, but even as; he started forward, a movement behind him made him whirl defensively; a Vulcan male, clad in a green tunic and sandals, stood just inside the door. With a shudder, Kirk saw the collar that encircled his neck, understanding that this man, too, was a slave - as his escorts had been, he realized.

"I an Maccra, slave of lord Spock; I am to serve you."

"Serve me?" Kirk laughed bitterly, touching his own collar. "Slaves don't have servants."

"On Vulcan some do," was the enigmatic reply. "Has the master given you a name?"

"My name's Kirk - James Kirk."

Maccra shook his head. "You do not understand. As a slave, you have nothing - not even a name - that the master does not choose to give you. Come, let me tend to your leg; I well know the pain of the branding iron."

Too weary to resist, Kirk submitted without protest as the slave examined the burn, then smeared it with a deliciously cool cream which numbed the pain instantly. "The salve promotes healing. In a few hours, you will cease to feel it." Maccra rose. "Rest hers, and I will bring you food."

***

When the slave returned with a tray, Kirk ate hungrily, his cunning mind working quickly. If he was to escape, he would need an ally; perhaps Maccra could be persuaded to betray his master? Best not to be too hasty, though....

"Maccra. That's an unusual name for a Vulcan," Kirk noted idly.

"Not for a slave. You have observed that freeborn males all have the initial S? It is customary for slaves to be given names beginning with M. You will, too, if the master gives you one. It may help you to know, also, that the tunics of the slaves indicate their duties. General work slaves wear grey; those who tend the gardens, brown; skilled slaves wear blue; and my own green indicates a slave who has been neutered for personal service."

"What will I wear?" Kirk asked.

"Lord Spock has not yet informed me." Maccra lifted away the tray, and drew curtains across the window. "Sleep, and let the healing salve do its work. The master has commanded that you attend him when he returns. I will call you when it is time."

He left, and Kirk started up as he heard the unmistakable click of a lock. The abrupt movement left him dizzy, and he sank back, his mind a haze of scarlet fury. He, James Kirk, a slave! Collared, branded and humiliated by that treacherous halfbreed: Spock would pay dearly for this! For a time, he amused himself by planning his revenge, until weariness mastered him, and he slept.

***

Hours later, a bright light in his eyes awakened Kirk. "You must prepare to greet your master now," Maccra said firmly.

Kirk rose and found himself still shivering. It was full night, and the window was still open. Maccra closed it, then returned and lifted a wall hanging, disclosing a hidden door. "Come."

The door opened onto a luxurious bathroom - warm and exotically scented. Maccra showed Kirk a deep bath, ordered him to wash, and passed through another, more elaborate door on the other side of the room. When he returned a few minutes later, he assisted Kirk from the bath, wrapped him in a soft towel, and dried him carefully.

"Put this on."

Kirk took the garment which was held out to him: a silky, crimson tunic. Once on, it fell only to his upper thighs, exposing the brand. "Is this all?" he asked indignantly, for the thin silk clung tightly, outlining his body in every detail.

Maccra shrugged. "Be grateful. It is customary for slaves such as yourself to go naked. Sit down." Refusing to answer any further questions, he took a brush and smoothed the human's hair, then made him stand and examined him critically.

"It is not according to custom," the Vulcan said worriedly, "hut it is as the lord wishes. Follow me and obey - " As he spoke, he headed for the door he had used before. Kirk followed, by turns curious and apprehensive. He found himself in a largo, ornately-furnished room. A velvet-soft carpet was under his bare feet, but he had eyes only for the man who lounged on a low couch before a blazing fire, his slim body dressed in loose trousers and a richly-embroidered tunic.

As Maccra reached the couch, he sank to his knees, his head lowered. Kirk remained erect, his hazel eyes blazing defiance at the man who dared to presume to own him.

"The slave is rebellious, Maccra." Spock's cool voice sounded faintly amused. "Put him on his knees."

"As my lord commands - " Maccra rose and caught Kirk's shoulders, forcing him down. Knowing the futility of trying to resist Vulcan strength, Kirk submitted to being forced into the humiliating posture, but he gritted his teeth as he controlled the urge to hurl himself at his tormentor's throat - another useless gesture of defiance.

"You are to be my personal slave," Spock told him. "Maccra will teach you your duties as I expect you to perform them, but you may as well begin now. As you kneel at my feet, you will hold a wine cup in case I wish to drink."

At a gesture, Maccra poured wine and gave the cup to Kirk, who took it automatically, concentrating on what Spock was saying. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You will be always at my wide," the hated voice continued. "You will care for my clothing, help me to dress, serve my meals, and attend me to the bath. In my presence, you will kneel, and you will not, without permission, lift your eyes to my face. Each morning when I rise, you will kneel and kiss my feet in submission, and you will - "

Kirk had been trembling with rage as the Vulcan talked, and at last his temper could no longer be restrained. "Damn you, you halfbreed bastard!" he choked. "Kiss your feet? I'd die first! You want wine? Here!" With unerring aim, he threw the contents of the wine cup full into Spock's face.

There was a brief, deadly silence, then Maccra's powerful hands grabbed him and threw him face down over the end of the couch, pressing his shoulders down while he restrained the wildly-kicking legs by hooking one of his own around them. Held so, Kirk was unable to move his body, but his head was free, and he watched with wide, apprehensive eyes as Spock rose smoothly to his feet.

"A foolish gesture, my slave." Still no anger in that quiet voice - only a cold, deadly amusement. "Or... perhaps not. A taste of punishment so early will warn you to be more compliant in the future."

"I'll make you kill me!" Kirk raved, and the Vulcan laughed shortly.

"So you wish for death, rather than life as my slave?" Spock reached out and lifted a supple cane from a nearby table. "As you see, I was prepared for some such foolishness. Death, my slave, is not for you. There is nothing - nothing - you can do that will persuade me to kill you. I have planned your punishment too well to allow you to cheat me so easily. Nor will you have the opportunity for self-destruction; when you are not in my presence, Maccra will be with you as guard and jailer. Hold him well, Maccra."

Spock moved out of Kirk's range of vision, and the human shuddered as the skirt of his brief tunic was turned back and a warm hand passed lightly over his exposed buttocks. He gave a sharp yelp of startled pain as the cane lashed down, biting deep into the soft flesh. At first, it was the sheer humiliation of his position that dominated Kirk's mind. To he thrashed like a disobedient child - and by Spock, of all people! ...But as the blows continued to fall, the stinging pain grew, spreading throughout his body until his buttocks seemed on fire. Stubborn pride kept him silent after the initial cry, though he could taste blood in his mouth from where he'd bitten his lip in the effort to keep from sobbing. How much longer...?

At last, the blows ceased and the hand touched him again. "Unmarked," Spock said with satisfaction. "It would have been a pity to render you unfit for service tonight." Tossing the cane away, he resumed his position on the couch. Maccra released his hold on Kirk and pushed the human to his knees again. Kirk blinked away furious tears as an imperious hand under his chin tilted his head up, and he met Spock's dark eyes.

°The last, and most important of your duties is still to be mentioned," the Vulcan continued as though there had been no interruption. "In addition to serving me as personal attendant, you will share my bed."

"What?"

"The crimson tunic marks you as a passion slave. Though you are as yet untrained, that can soon be remedied. You have great potential."

"No! No, I won't!"

"You were not so reluctant to know a Vulcan body once, my slave." Spock tightened his grip on Kirk's chin. "As we both know, I could simply... rape... you into submission, but I do not choose to exert myself so. You will submit yourself to me - or I will have Maccra hold you down while I enjoy you. Did you know he was once employed as an attendant in an Orion brothel? I am sure he would have many useful... suggestions."

Kirk swallowed, his instinct for survival coming to the fore. Submit to Spock? Cooperate, conscious and aware, while his body was violated? Or struggle and be held down - have Maccra witness his humiliation? He had himself, more than once, patronized the brothels of Orion, and had experienced having an unwilling girl - usually a new recruit - brought to his bed and held sown by an attendant as he made use of her. At the tine, he had enjoyed the feeling of power, but now he was the one to be mastered... In either case, Maccra would know well enough what was being done to him, but at least he would deprive the man of the twisted, perverted pleasure the brothel slaves seemed to find in witnessing the degradation of their charges.

"I'll submit," Kirk said dully, then added with a flash of spirit, "but you'll get no pleasure from me."

"Will I not?" Spock smiled and leaned closer until his lips brushed the human's ear. "I will find the same pleasure you found in violating me when I lay at your mercy - with this difference: I will see your eyes as I enter you, and know you feel everything I do to you." He drew back and looked up at Maccra. "You may leave, but remain awake. If the slave is defiant, I will call you."

"Yes, my lord." The slave's voice held disappointment, but he bowed deeply and withdrew.

Spock turned back to Kirk. "Remember," he cautioned, "obey me or suffer. Shall I tell you what I will do to you if you refuse a command?" He seemed to expect no answer, for he continued almost at once. "When I have finished with you, I will have you chained in the slaves' dormitory, and each of my house slaves will be given permission to use you. It is rare that they have such an opportunity... and I possess many slaves. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Kirk whispered. There was nothing else he could say.

"Then in token of your submission, you will kneel here and take me in your mouth."

Kirk stared in mounting anger and outrage as the meaning of Spock's command sank fully home. It was the most humiliating thing he could have imagined; to he required, not merely to submit, but to actually contribute to his own degradation. It would be useless, and only more humiliating to beg; Spock was all too clearly enjoying this, revelling in his power over the man who had once commanded him.

A hand caught in his hair, forcing his head down; for a moment, he made a token resistance, then of his own accord, lowered his head to conceal an anticipatory grin. So... Spock wanted him to use his mouth? Well, he would - but in a way the Vulcan would not find pleasing.

The hand left his hair to slide caressingly down his cheek; Kirk trembled as a finger traced his lips, parted them, lingered on the moist, inner surface. "Knew this, my slave." There was laughter again in the deep voice. "As I touch your body, so I touch your mind. I know you well, you who were once James Kirk. Should you contemplate any... violence... I will at once be aware of your intention. You will not succeed, but I will count merely the attempt as an offense meriting the punishment I spoke of. Now serve me, my slave."

Kirk swallowed nervously, aware of the fingers resting lightly on his temple, revealing his thoughts to the man who... who was his... master. There was no escape from this, no retaliation he could make. Slowly, he reached trembling hands to the waistband of Spock's trousers.

It was not as bad as he had feared, for the Vulcan was already partially aroused. Kirk took the firm penis in his hand, closed his eyes, and lowered his head to encircle it with his lips. He sucked steadily, trying to close his mind to what he was doing, but panic flared in him when the powerful hands gripped his head, holding him close and still as Spock came in his mouth. Kirk choked, swallowed, struggled desperately for breath, but was not released until Spock's ejaculation had ended. He slumped forward, clinging to the couch, and felt light fingers brush his hair.

"A promising beginning," the deep voice purred as Spock rose, pulling him to his feet and reaching for the fastening of his tunic. "However, you still have much to learn. I think I will enjoy discovering the pleasure of your body, my slave."

 

***

  
  
The days blurred into a confused haze of experience and sensation for Kirk. He was never alone. When Spock did not require his presence, Maccra was always at his side, and the slave even slept on a mattress at the foot of the bed Kirk was seldom allowed to use. His days were passed under Maccra's tutelage, learning the duties of a Vulcan's personal slave; though the threat of the cane was held over him, it was not the thought of another beating which kept him docile, but rather the sick, terrified conviction that Spock's final threat had been no idle one: if he displeased his master, he would be given to the house slaves. He soon became aware of how avidly they watched him, and knew that only their fear of Spock's anger if they dared to touch him kept him safe. One of the slaves, thinking him alone, dared to whisper a crude suggestion of what he would like to do to the human. Maccra overheard, reported to Spock, and the slave was flogged - but the experience taught Kirk to dread the loss of his master's protection. If the Vulcan decided to abandon him, he could expect no mercy, no consideration.

And Spock was... considerate... after a fashion. He took the human to bed every night, using him until Kirk slumped, exhausted, in his arms. But the brutal violation the human had expected did not come. As long as he lay receptive and obedient, Spock seemed prepared to coax and caress his body into readiness for penetration; only if Kirk showed resistance did the Vulcan impose his will with ruthless authority.  
  
Kirk, a sensual and self-indulgent man, found himself responding without his conscious consent to the skilled seduction; though he tried to remind himself each time that this was still rape, his own crime repeated over and over again, his writhing, sweat-damp body drove itself blindly against  
Spock's, avidly seeking the sheer physical pleasure the Vulcan's clever hands and mouth could give him. He listened with horror to his own voice moaning in ecstasy, pleading hoarsely with his master for some favored caress, and realized with fear that his much-vaunted independence was slowly being leeched away - he was becoming resigned.

Sometimes Spock vanished for the entire day, and Kirk was free to explore the house, bathe in the pool, or wander in the gardens - but always with Maccra in close attendance. On those excursions, he saw only the house slaves busy about their duties, for Spock had told him that Sarek and Amanda were away, adding that they would be surprised to discover on their return that a new passion slave had been added to their household.

Mention of Spock's parents had make Kirk wonder what would happen to him when the Vulcan's leave was over. James Kirk was dead - so Spock could not take him back to the Enterprise... Would he be forced to remain here, awaiting his master's infrequent visits? Tears of shame stung his eyes at the thought of the contempt he would see in Amanda's face when she learned what he had become; she had known him as the arrogant, confident captain of the Enterprise; surely she would despise her son's docile bed slave?

***

One hot afternoon, Kirk was lying on his bed, trying to rest during one of Spock's absences. Maccra, too, had vanished after locking him in, so for the first time since he had been brought to Vulcan, he was alone - and he found himself restless and expectant. Shame filled him as he realized what he was waiting for - Spock's return, and the ecstasy he would know in his master's arms. Kirk's last remaining shreds of pride flared high. "That's it. That's enough!" he whispered, shocked at what he had been thinking. "What have you become, Jim Kirk? A slave... in love with his master! A master who despises me.... Oh, god: I can't live without him... but I can't live with him... not like this... "

He rose and looked out the window, down into the garden below. Beyond a grove of graceful kala trees was the boundary wall of the garden, and the desert outside.

Escape! The thought rang in his mind, although he knew that here on Vulcan there was only one avenue of escaping for a branded, collared slave. The desert called to him, promising a refuge from his shame, a grave for his hopeless, helpless love for a man who could not love him... a quiet end to his sad confusion.

Kirk knew he dared not leave through the house. Without Spock or Maccra at his side, the slaves would consider him... available. He leaned over the balcony and saw that a thick, climbing plant clung to the walls; it was the work of a moment to swing himself over the railing, and work his way down to the ground.

Moving carefully to avoid the slaves working in the garden, Kirk gained the safety of the trees, and began to explore the boundary wall. As he had hoped, he came upon a small, unlocked gate, and with one last backward glance at the house where he had known so much humiliation... so much pleasure... Kirk set his face to the desert and began to walk steadily.

  
***

The fierce sun beat down on his unprotected head, and he was grateful for the intensity of the dry, searing heat, knowing he would not be able to endure the exposure for long. Gradually his confident stride slowed to a walk, and soon he was stumbling over the burning sand. It was painful to breathe, and he longed for water... his mind wove entrancing images of clear, sparkling pools... he conjured visions of the cool, green trees of his native planet. He must show Spock one day... Then, with a pang, he remembered that he would never show Spock anything... ever again.

At last, his feet, chafed and blistered in his thin sandals, would carry him no further. Kink blinked around miserably, noting with some curiosity that the horizon seemed to be advancing and retreating in a most confusing fashion. He looked back, and saw no sign of the house he had left; only the dunes of red sand, and his own footprints marked his passing. Spock would find him, but too late... there was a certain comfort in his sudden conviction that the Vulcan's arms would hold him once more, even though he would not know of it. Perhaps then he'll be able to forgive me...

Utterly beaten, Kirk sank to his knees and fell forward to lie sprawled on the red sand.

  
***

He was dreaming of cool, welcoming darkness, and opened his eyes to find it reality. Kirk stretched and sighed, luxuriating in the comfort of the soft bed on which he lay. All decisions had been taken; the only thing he had to do now was drift with the current, letting Fate do with him as she wished.

In the dimness, a shadow stirred. "Are you awake?"

"Yes." I know that voice! Calm, gentle, it held a note of tenderness he had heard only once before: when the other Spock had first greeted him on his counterpart's Enterprise. Within seconds he had betrayed himself, and his own first officer's formality had frozen the gentleness away; he had never heard it again... but he had never forgotten it.

"Are you dead, too?" Kirk asked with naive curiosity.

"Dead?"

"Yes. We're dead, you know. I deserve it... but why are you here?"

"Why do you say that you deserve death?" The gentle voice ignored his question.

"Because... I was blind... and selfish... and jealous...."

"Jealous?"

"Of your Kirk. He came... I thought he'd turned Spock - my Spock - against me. Spock... I hurt him... hurt him badly... but I've been punished for it. Oh; yes, I've been punished... "

"In what way?"

"I know now what we could have shared... if it hadn't been for my... damned arrogance." Somehow, it was comforting to confess his guilt to this familiar stranger. "I love him... and I've had glimpses... of the love he might have given me... if I'd only asked for it. He hates and despises me now, and he's right... cruelty was all I knew. I was afraid to be gentle, thought it weak... I wish... I wish I could have told him I'm sorry. I'd have liked his forgiveness... "

"Perhaps he understands better than you know," the voice suggested.

"There's no reason why he should. I never gave him any reason to trust me. He was loyal - more patient than I deserved - and I betrayed him.... But you - you understood and trusted your Kirk. Didn't you?"

"Yes. I understood him well." Kirk's heart ached at that note of wistful tenderness.

"Do you know what I remembered most vividly when I returned to my own universe?" Kirk asked. "The expression in your eyes when you knew I wasn't him. If my Spock had looked at me like that... But all he could talk about was your Kirk, what he said, what he wanted. There was no welcome for me... And I was jealous... " Kirk's voice trailed off and his heavy eyelids drooped shut.

The watcher stirred and moved closer to the bed, gazing darn at the sleeping face. Kirk looked so much younger; the relaxed face conveyed vulnerability, the lines of arrogance and determination smoothed away. Slim fingers reached out to trace the outline of sort lips.

"For tonight, sleep in peace," the gentle voice murmured. "Soon we play the final hand in this gamble of mine."

***

It was full daylight when Kirk next awoke to find himself back in his familiar bedroom. He had failed then. Resigned to it, with no heart for further struggle, he turned his head on the pillow - and found that Spock was sitting on the bed, watching him with detached curiosity.

"You wake at last, my slave." Kirk lowered his eyes to hide the hurt he felt at the contrast between this cold voice and the tender one of his dream. "Perhaps you now realize the foolishness of attempting to escape me. You were watched from the moment you left this room. I permitted you to suffer as a punishment and a warning. I am curious, however. Why did you try to escape?"

Kirk hesitated. What had been so easy to say to the gentle phantom of the night was so difficult now, with this man who hated him. Spock had no reason to believe anything he said, but resigned now to the certainty that his future would be his master's decision, Kirk knew he could only speak the truth, however unwelcome it might be. "I was ashamed," he said in a low voice, "and I was afraid that you'd find out... Still, it doesn't matter now. I've learned what... what we could have been to each other. My punishment will be to remain at your side, loving you... and knowing myself unloved." With a sigh, he leaned forward and rested his head against Spock's shoulder, his whole body aching with the need to feel the powerful arms encircle him. To his surprise, Spock made no attempt to pull away, but sat waiting for him to continue.

"It can't make any difference now," Kirk continued, "but I want you to know... If I could go back, wipe out my cruelty to you, I would do it - not out of fear, but from the love I have for you."

There was silence for a moment, then Spock's hands rose to grip his shoulders, holding him away so he could look into the flushed face. "Fascinating," the Vulcan commented. "The self-sufficient Captain Kirk, reduced to this: a docile passion slave in love with the man who branded him."

"Funny, isn't it?" Kirk laughed bitterly. He thew his head hack and faced Spock proudly. "But I'm not ashamed, Spock. I love you. I only wish... I wish I deserved your love in return. Now you know. Do what you like with me - it doesn't matter."

Greatly daring, he leaned closer, and this time the Vulcan's arms gathered him close. He lay against Spock's body, revelling in the illusion of affection as the slim fingers stroked his hair. "Soon I must return to the Enterprise." Spock's voice was thoughtful. "Shall I take you with me?"

"I wish you could... but Jim Kirk is dead."

"True. However, Vulcan customs are not human - our passion slaves are usually kept secluded. Such a slave, discreetly veiled, confined strictly to my quarters, would not be known by the crew."

"I'd like to go with you - if my lord permits." Suddenly, it was no longer difficult. to say. Kirk tilted his head up, his eyes languorous, his lips parted in an invitation. "Would you not be pleased to take me?"

Spock raised a hand to the clasp of Kirk's tunic. "I will consider it, my slave. For now.....

Kirk moaned as the hot, wet mouth engulfed his, and an insistent tongue slipped between his lips; hands moved on his body, producing a shiver of pleasure, and he wrapped his arms around the Vulcan's neck, his hips lifting in response.  
"Let me tempt you, my lord," he murmured huskily.

***

  
  
Spock extricated himself from the clinging arms of his sated companion, rose, and dressed, looking down appreciatively at the nude body sprawled shamelessly before him. "I must leave now, and I want you to rest." Reaching down, he pinched the human's nipples in a casual gesture. "Tonight I shall have guests for dinner - I wish you to serve me with wine as you have been taught. Your performance will help me to decide what to do with you. Maccra will call you when it is tine, and will rive you your final instructions."

Kirk swallowed nervously as the tall figure left the room. Until now only his fellow slaves had seen him with Spock; but to appear in public, kneeling at his master's feet... Then he smiled in silent resignation. What did it matter what a group of unknown Vulcans thought of him? He would perform his duties to perfection, make them envy Spock for possessing such a beautiful - and obedient - slave.

***

Kirk was already in the bath when Maccra cam to call him. The Vulcan dried him, then produced the clothes he was to wear - a very brief tunic of richly embroidered crimson silk and, for the first time, a pair of close-fitting briefs which concealed his genitals.

"A great lord such as the master does not permit others to gaze freely on the body of his pleasure slave," Maccra explained in response to Kirk's inquiry. "It does not matter about me, of course - I was neutered for just this purpose - to serve free women or greatly valued pleasure slaves."

"Am I valued?" Kirk asked curiously, and the Vulcan stared at him in astonishment.

"Your collar is of serlai, the most precious metal on Vulcan." Maccra slipped jeweled bracelets around Kirk's wrists. "You wear gems worth a warlord's ransom - and you ask if you are valued. Oh, I must not forget - you are to wear this."

Maccra eased the fine silk over his head, and turned him so he could look in the mirror; the hood covered his hair and face, stopping short at his upper lip, concealing his betraying ears and eyebrows. Despite the richness of the material, the elaborate embroidery, the sparkle of gems, there was nothing in the least effeminate about the costume; it complemented Kirk's masculinity to perfection.

Expressing himself satisfied, Maccra led the human down to the door of the dining room. "Take this." There the slave handed him a tray set with a wine cup and flagon. "When you enter, go directly to your master and kneel at his feet. You need not concern yourself with serving food - the house slaves will do that. if any of the guests address you, look to the master for permission before you answer." A silver gong-note sounded from the room. "Go now." He opened the door, allowing Kirk to pass through.

  
***

  
Kirk was already halfway across the room when the unexpected ripple of laughter from one of Spock's guests made him look up involuntarily; he checked in his stride, his eyes widening with distress as he studied the tableau before him. Low couches formed three sides of a square around a table set with the remains of an elaborate meal. Spock reclined facing bin, the guests to his left and right, each attended by a kneeling slave. Kirk looked hesitantly from one familiar face to another. McCoy, his blur. eyes sparkling with amusement as he listened to the already half-drunk Scott; Uhura, a wine cup in her hand, leaned on Sulu's shoulder as he whispered in her ear, producing again that seductive laughter.

Fortunately, no one had noticed his hesitation. Kirk hurried forward to kneel submissively by his master's couch, thankful for the concealing hood, and grateful Spock had thought of it.

"And who's this?" McCoy leaned forward inquisitively. "This is no ordinary slave, Spock!"

"Indeed not." The Vulcan ran caressing fingers down Kirk's throat. "His duties are very specific, as the color of his tunic indicate. He serves me in bed."

"You mean you sleep with him?" Uhura blurted out. "I'd never have thought you were... Forgive me, Captain!" she hastily added, remembering that this enigmatic alien could be very unpredictable.

"Different cultures have different customs, Uhura." Spock waved the apology aside. "On my world it is expected that a warrior will sleep only with males, save when he requires children. To conquer, to subdue, another male... that is considered an indication of masculinity."

"I suppose it would be... " Uhura murmured thoughtfully.

"An interesting viewpoint." Sulu's grin broadened to a leer as he watched Spock's hand slide inside Kirk's tunic to finger his nipples. "I've never tried it myself... but yes... to dominate another man...." His voice trailed off.

"I am considering bringing him with me when I return to the Enterprise," Spock informed them. "I grow weary of casual encounters; it will be pleasant to have my own slave in bed."

"Is he cooperative?" Sulu asked curiously.

"He has learned to he. Observe." Spock lifted Kirk's chin. "Kiss me, my slave."

Kirk set the tray down and reached for Spock's hand, pressing the fingers to his temple in a silent plea for mental contact.

/Well?/ Spock's thought was impatient.

/Please don't make me!/ Kirk pleaded wretchedly. /Not in front of Uhura.../

/What have you to fear? You know that my quests were once your officers, under your command; but they do not know you/ your face is concealed by the slave hood - to them, you are merely a nameless passion slave, trained to my will./

/But.../

/I have given you a command,/ came the inexorable reply. /I believe you remember the penalty for disobedience?/

/I do./ Kirk licked his lips nervously, then gained confidence as he realized he was indeed unknown to them. To shamelessly serve Spock's lust in the presence of those who had once obeyed and feared him.... Yes... that would be... exciting....

The exchange had taken only seconds. Kirk leaned closer and raised his mouth obediently; he licked gently at the Vulcan's lips for a moment, and as they parted, slid his tongue into the hot mouth. Even before these avid watchers, he could not control a sigh of pleasure as Spock sucked at  
his tongue, and he colored fiercely as he began to arouse - they could not help seeing the growing bulge at his groin.

Spock pushed him away and he resumed his submissive posture. "He would serve me here, before you all, if I commanded it," the Vulcan said. "Shall I so command, my slave?"

"As my lord... wishes..." Kirk murmured hoarsely, alternately horrified and desirous.

"No doubt my guests would find your performance... interesting. However, Vulcans do not mate in public - even with slaves - " Spock resumed stroking Kirk's throat. "Mr. Sulu, more wine?"

Uhura's sharp eyes had noticed Kirk's deepening color. "Spock, this slave is human!" she exclaimed.

"You are indeed observant. Yes, I have learned that human slaves, once broken, make submissive and responsive bedmates... this one more so than most. He is indeed unique - see - "

Before Kirk realized what he intended, Spock stripped away the concealing hood and caught his hair, preventing him from lowering his head. There was a moment's stunned silence as the Enterprise officers gazed in utter astonishment at the familiar face.

"It's... it's Captain Kirk!" Scott gave a sudden bellow of laughter. "You've tamed him properly, Spock! How did ye manage it, man?"

"Oh, it's beautiful!" McCoy rubbed his streaming eyes. "It's worth a year's pay to see that arrogant son-of-a-bitch crawl! You told him to kiss you - and he did:"

"Jim Kirk, the Super Stud!" Uhura's mocking laughter was even more humiliating than that of the men. "Wait till the others hear about this! There are plenty of young women in the crew he's forced into his bed - now you've taught him what it's like. You must bring him back with you, Spock, and let the crew see him dressed like that."

"Yes, bring him." Sulu was eyeing Kirk interestedly. "That bastard sent me to the agony booth once... Would you lend him to me, Spock? I'd like to try a few... experiments with him..."

"I will consider your request, Mr. Sulu. Who knows? Perhaps as a reward for faithful service."

"I do believe the slave is crying," Scott observed with malicious enjoyment.

"Indeed?" Spock gripped Kirk's chin, lifting his face so the others could see the hot tears of shame he could not control. "You cannot serve me like this; go to my bedchamber and wait for me."

Somehow, Kirk found the strength to climb to his feet; as he stood swaying for balance, he felt a sudden increased pressure at his groin, and looked down in horror to see Sulu's hand under his tunic.

"Just a little something on account," the Security Chief leered. "I look forward to obtaining permission to explore further - Captain!"

"Slave, go!"

Obedient to Spock's command, Kirk stumbled from the room, dragging himself wearily up the stairs to his master's room, where he flung himself face-down on the bed, weeping bitterly. So this was Spock's response to his hesitant confession of love. The Vulcan had as good as promised him to Sulu, and the hunger in the Security Chief's eyes had told him unmistakably that the man regarded him - and would treat him - as nothing better than a whore. How could he live like that? And... with everyone on the Enterprise knowing what he was, what he had been?

But... even now... how could he live without Spock...?

  
***

  
Kirk wasn't sure how much later it was that he heard the bedroom door open; half fearful that it might be Sulu, he turned over to find Spock. watching him dispassionately from the foot of the bed. His fear of punishment, his awareness of how completely he was in this man's power, vanished before the tide of hurt and anger which flooded him. Impulsively, he stood up and approached his master.

"Spock, how could you?" he demanded bitterly. "I know I hurt you, but you could have spared me that. Maybe you don't want my love, but it was... all I had left to give you.... You had no right!"

"I have every right," Spock countered. "Are you not my slave? Yet it seems I have not yet completely tamed you."

"No, you haven't." Kirk himself was surprised by that realization. "I know that you could, if you wanted to - you could even force me into Sulu's bed - but... but you'd have to break me, Spock, make me into a mindless, unthinking, unfeeling robot - responding only to a programmed physical stimulus. Is that what you want? Somehow, I don't think so. You want me aware, responsive, willing... I love you and obey you because I... must. But I'm still me."

"Excellent!" Spock took a step forward and caught the human's shoulders. "My test succeeded better than I had hoped, Jim."

"Your test?" Kirk asked vaguely, more concerned with this first use of his given name since his enslavement.

"It was never my intention to break your spirit; I am gratified to find I have not. Had you failed, I would have decided your future for you, but as you have demonstrated that you still retain some independence of thought, I offer you a choice. Will you return to the Enterprise with me, now that the crew know who and what you are? I make you only one promise; no one but myself will touch you, but you will not be permitted to remain in seclusion. You will appear as my slave among the crew you once commanded."

"What is the alternative?" Kirk asked hesitantly.

"I will return you to Earth, and you will never again leave it. You will remain my slave, and from time to time I will visit you to claim the use of your body, but in all else you will be free - even to marry, if you wish. How do you choose?"

"I... I can't think... " Kirk reached out blindly to be gathered into Spock's arms; he leaned his head against the strong shoulder, trying to decide. Return to the Enterprise... Could he endure the endless humiliation he would undergo there, the sniggering gossip? It would have been hard enough before, to exist as a nonentity on the ship he had once commanded, but at least he would have had anonymity, merely Spock's closely guarded slave. Now... he thought of his flimsy, revealing tunic, of the collar around his throat, of the brand burned deep into his thigh, and shuddered at the image of himself so exposed to the eyes of the crew. And if anything happened to Spock... he would be alone, with no protection.... There were others beside Sulu who would relish the opportunity to gain revenge for some punishment by humiliating the former captain...

Go to Earth? He would be free... but free to do what? Return to the slums he had clawed his way out of with such desperation? There was nothing for him on Earth, nothing he wanted.... And he would seldom see Spock - perhaps never again, considering the hazards of Starfleet life. Whatever became of him, nothing could be worse than that.

Slowly, his arms encircled the slim waist. "I'll... go with you," he murmured.

A soft kiss brushed his temple, he was lifted and placed carefully on the bed, the covers tucked around him. "You are tired. Sleep, Jim." Gentle fingers closed his eyes into sleep, and Spock leaned down to brush the wistful mouth with his. Then he straightened. "Tomorrow I shall know," the Vulcan whispered, "if I have won or lost... everything.

 

***

 

Morning sunlight full in his eyes wakened Kirk as Maccra entered with a breakfast tray. "Where is the master?" The smooth pillow beside him told him he had slept alone.

"In the garden, sir. He asks that you join him when you have eaten."

Kirk frowned, puzzled. Asks? And why had Maccra called him 'Sir?'

The slave professed ignorance. "It was the master's instruction, sir."

Kirk shrugged, set the problem aside until he could ask Spock, and attacked the food with enthusiasm; he was hungry. When he had finished, he went to the bath, and returned to find Maccra laying cut his clothes.

"But - what's this?" Kirk lifted the gold shirt, stroking the fabric longingly. "There must be some mistake - you've brought me the master's clothes." But these boots were never made for Spock's long, slender feet...

"The master ordered that these clothes be brought to you," was the slave's only response, and Kirk submitted to being dressed in the uniform he had never thought to wear again. He peered into the mirror, reflecting that, but for the collar around his neck, the last few weeks might never have happened...

Abruptly, he turned away and left the room, noting as he descended the staircase that the house seemed unusually silent; there were no slaves busy about their duties. It was still early enough not to be too hot, and Kirk breathed in the fresh air with appreciation; he knew Spock's favorite part of the garden, and hurried in search of his master. As he came through the bushes which concealed the pool where they liked to swim, a slim figure rose from the bench and stood waiting - a figure dressed in the familiar blue silk tunic.

Biting back his instinctive urge to question, Kirk began to kneel, but strong hands caught his shoulders, preventing him.

"My captain kneels to no man."

"Spock? What's wrong? Why do you call me 'Captain?' I'm your... slave... "

"No!" The collar was removed, and with an expression of loathing, Spock hurled it far out into the pool. "You are as you have always been - the captain of the Enterprise. And I am your first officer."

"But... you took command... enslaved me... Everyone knows."

"Jim, come and sit down while I explain." Spock slid an arm around Kirk's waist, leading him to the bench. "All that you have seen - all that has happened - is a trick. When you... raped me, Jim, I was angry and humiliated - even hurt - that you no longer trusted me when I had given you all my loyalty."

"I was wrong... so wrong!" Kirk choked. "I know now that you would never have betrayed me... I drove you away with my own cruelties."

"My deepest sorrow was that you had... enforced intimacy," the Vulcan continued. "I would have loved you... willingly... and you defiled that love... In my pain and anger, I sought to destroy you, to wipe out the memory of what you had done. As you returned to your cabin, I operated the Tantalus Field."

"The Tantalus Fields" Kirk turned white. "Why... why did it fail?"

"It did not fail, Jim. You were drunk, and passed out even as I operated the controls. When I knew that you had lived, I tried to kill you myself... and found I could not. Yet I knew that if I did nothing, your hatred and jealousy of your counterpart, your conviction that he had subverted me, would lead you to destroy me eventually - and without me, I think that you would not survive long."

Kirk looked down in admission. "I've known that for a long time," he confessed. "I'd come to depend on you - that's why it hurt so much when I thought you preferred the... other."

"I told you that I was loyal to my captain, and you did not believe me; you could not accept that, knowing of the Field, I could have used it at any time to remove you, and had not. It was clear to me that nothing I could say would convince you... I gambled with my life then, when I conceived this plan to take everything from you - your ship, your pride, your freedom - to make you utterly mine... and then to give it back."

"You told the crew I was dead," Kirk remembered.

Spock shook his head. "I told them that Marlena had injured you before you killed her, that you were recovering, but preferred to do so in the privacy of your quarters. I took command, yes - as your first officer. Then I brought you here on sick leave."

"All the way to Vulcan. And the crew knows - after last night."

"We are not on Vulcan, Jim." Spock reached to move a flowering shrub, revealing a familiar metallic sensor. "We are on the shore leave planet. All which you have seen here - the house, the gardens, the desert, even the people - are creations of the computer. You do not remember, but I took control of your mind to get you off the ship; you walked to the transporter room as though going willingly on leave."

"The shore leave planet... " Kirk shook his head in bewilderment. "Then it should have worked for me... "

"I arranged that it would not." Spock's face was determined. "Before I brought you down, I spoke with the Controller, told him that any wishes expressed by your mind were to be disregarded, and only my commands obeyed. I informed him that if he refused, my operatives would destroy the planet. He knew I was not bluffing."

"Uhura and the others... they were projections, too?" Kirk asked incredulously.

"Yes. No one - no one, Jim, save ourselves - knows what happened between us. The creations have already been destroyed, and the brand on your thigh will be removed before we return to the ship. One thing more you should know - Sulu attempted a coup during our leave, but I suspected he would, and was ready for him. My Vulcan operatives hold the ship for you... for us."

"But why such a charade? Why not simply tell me?"

"Would you have listened? And by then I knew I wanted much more than your trust. You could not - Captain Kirk could not - accept a male as lover. I wondered if 'Jim' would. Last night you promised to stay with me - now that you know the truth, what is your answer?"

"My answer?" Kirk pulled a leaf from the bush and began to shred it. "If I said I love you, that I want to be with you... how do you know you can trust me? I might be planning revenge."

"You might be... but you are not." Spock captured Kirk's busy hands. "However, if we are to remain together, I want you to bond with me."

Kirk looked up, almost drowning in the tenderness of the velvet eyes. "What - exactly - are you asking of me?" he murmured faintly.

"Formal male marriage, by Vulcan custom. Give me your mind as well as your body, Jim... then you will know that I love you. There will be no doubts for you ever again. The other Kirk... he was wrong. For all its many faults, this is our universe and we cannot change it - or ourselves - to any but a small degree; we must live in it as best we may. But... there is happiness for us, if we choose to take it."

"You and I... together," Kirk breathed. "On the Enterprise... Someone to trust, to love.... Yes, I want that - from you... "

Spock took Kirk's face between his hands and kissed the soft lips. "I do not envy my counterpart."

"Why not?"

"Because he does not have... your love, my bondmate."

Delicately, Spock placed his hands on Kirk's face to initiate the bonding meld, and felt the human's fingers copy the gesture. The channel opened between them, and Kirk knew a moment's surprise; this was not the chilling, empty wasteland he had glimpsed before in their melds, when they had temporarily joined to use Spock's gift to their advantage. Instead, a warm world of light beckoned to him, shyly inviting him to reach out to a joining which would render the word 'alone' meaningless forever. With a silent cry of wonder, Kirk threw himself into the light, feeling the warmth of belonging seep into the coldness which had been his for so long.

Sensing his utter willingness, Spock entwined his mind around Kirk's, joining them inseparably as he formulated the eon-old bonding vow, giving himself totally to Kirk as he received the human's absolute commitment.

"I own thee even as I are owned by thee, James Kirk. Part of me, never to be parted. I am thine, and thee are mine... "


End file.
